


Nothing Gold

by wynterelle



Category: Café Enchanté (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Feelings, Impermanence, Light Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Other Cast Cameos, Post-Canon, Recovery, happy for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynterelle/pseuds/wynterelle
Summary: Following the events of his route, Il takes the time required to heal. Abittersweetepilogue.
Relationships: Awaki Kotone/Il Fado de Rie
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Nothing Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Experimenting with writing something different than usual - this piece is bittersweet rather than fluffy or smutty.
> 
> Il's route felt in need of an epilogue, but from the general mood and a particular unresolved issue, it didn't seem like there would be an easy story after.

“There’s no rush,” Kotone had told him. “Take the time you need to heal.”

And Il took his time indeed.

It was slow work, piecing a soul back together. At first there were long pauses, confused blank spaces, interminable stretches that passed in a blur of foggy memories and fleeting recollections of feelings. It was an arduous, winding route to get back to even the faintest semblance of what had once been normal, with some good days and many bad.

Kotone said a recovery took determination and resolve. She said it took patience and love. And most of all, she said, it took time.

It took quite a lot of time.

But for someone who had already lived a thousand years, what was more time?

  


* * *

  


“Today was a good day,” Kotone said, smiling as she wiped down the café counter.

“Yes,” replied Il. Seated across from her, he summoned up the process to make a smile. It came quick by then, the expression and its meaning now familiar. He summed up the day’s sales, mental arithmetic coming to him as easy as ever. “Business was good today.”

Kotone shook her head. “I meant for you. Today was a good day for you.” She looked at him, her voice quiet. “You’ve had a lot of those lately.”

Had he? He cast back in his memories, still so twisted up, and found that the latest string of sequential time periods did indeed average out to a positive estimation of progress.

He nodded, and Kotone smiled again.

“I’m heading out,” came Kariya’s voice, the bell on the café door jingling.

“Study hard for your exams!” Kotone called after him. “You’ll need good marks to get into a good university!”

“You sound like my mom,” said Kariya, before the door closed behind him.

This seemed an unusual thing to say. Il couldn’t recall ever meeting Kariya’s mother, but he found it improbable that Kotone sounded anything like her.

“That boy,” Kotone said, shaking her head. “Although he’s not really a boy anymore, is he? Hard to believe he’ll be graduating in just a few months.”

Her mouth smiled, but the corners of her eyes didn’t move as they should. Il still found her expressions difficult to process at times. In this case, it was like one part of her was happy, but not the whole. Had he ever understood it, even before the incident? He didn’t know; the memories of his time before were still wispy and uncertain.

He searched his mind for anything to help determine the correct protocol for the situation, but his inquiry returned blank. Kotone ducked her head, blinking rapidly, and took out a cutting board from behind the counter.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, keeping her gaze averted. “I bought some good apples from the store. The kind that even Kariya likes.”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed a bright red apple along with a knife. Slicing in silence, her eyes were downcast, the sharp edge of the knife glinting as her hands shook slightly.

“Do you think he’ll visit often, even after he graduates? He’s doing so well now, he hardly even needs to visit Medio anymo-”

Her voice broke off with a gasp, the knife clattering to the counter as a slash of red appeared across her finger. Il stood, his heart suddenly racing. Without registering his actions, he made his way around the counter to her side, took her hand in his own, and sang a few brief notes, calling down a shimmer of golden light.

“I’m so silly,” Kotone said, using the back of her uninjured hand to dab at her eyes, “getting distracted over something like this. Moving on, going to university… It’s perfectly normal, after all.”

Il felt his face frown, his eyebrows drawing together.

“What’s normal?” he asked. The light from his magic faded and the last of her cut sealed itself up, but still her eyes were bright and wet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She gave a sniffle and passed a hand across her eyes again before her mouth shifted into a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Things like this are just a part of life.”

She placed her now-healed hand against his face and looked up into his eyes. Her touch was warm, her fingers soft against his skin.

“Would you like to play a game together tonight, Il?” She swallowed and her eyes flicked away, before looking back. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“Yes,” he said, even as his mind struggled to jump from the old topic to the new. Kotone did this often, he knew, moving from one subject to another entirely different, with no logical link between. It made conversations terribly difficult to analyze.

He waited patiently, still processing her words and reactions to no avail, until she finished tidying the café and led him upstairs.

Kotone had said his room was as he’d left it, that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to empty it after what had happened. She’d spent countless afternoons with him, holding up figures, pins, and illustrations, asking what he remembered. At times this produced flickers of images in his mind, a sudden flash of something that slipped away just as he reached for it. But Kotone often smiled when they sat together in the room full of meaningless, colourful items, so he settled onto the couch and waited for her to do the same. She picked up a small device with a screen and sat beside him, tucking her legs under herself and leaning against him as she pressed its buttons.

The story on the screen was familiar, but Il couldn’t determine whether they had viewed it before or just one like it. Kotone leaned heavier against him as the scenes went on, until one of his wings ached so much he had to adjust his position to accommodate her. His hand brushed hers and she grasped it gently, smiling up at him before returning her attention to the screen.

“How sweet,” she murmured at one point, even though they weren’t eating anything.

Then the usual structure of the screen with its characters and text gave way to a static image of just two people - bodies pressed close, arms wrapped around each other, one character’s head tilted up towards the other, their lips pressed together. Il’s chest tightened.

Kotone looked up at him then, their faces close as her eyes grew half-lidded and her lips parted. The tightness in his chest twinged in a way that almost hurt, even though he was certain he was physically fine. Kotone watched him, waiting, her gaze holding his. Without fully understanding his actions, he tipped forward to bring his mouth to hers, a parallel to what was on the screen.

His whole world lit up. The connections in his mind fired bright at the gentle press of his lips to hers, a rush of clarity flooding through him.

“Kotone,” he said, his memories suddenly stretching back to all they’d shared, a brief flash of perfect recollection.

She smiled at him then, a true, genuine smile, before the light in his eyes began to dull again, her face falling with it. Kotone watched him for a moment more, then gave a little sigh and settled her head against his shoulder, her gaze moving back to the screen.

Il blinked, a foggy veil falling back across his consciousness, even as another fragment of his soul stitched itself back together.

  


* * *

  


“That took longer to bake than I’d thought,” Kotone said, brow creased, jaw tight as she quickly transferred the cake from its pan to a plastic container. 

Panic, thought Il, finally identifying her expression as he watched her. She looked panicked.

“I hope Titania won’t mind that we’re late. Canus certainly won’t.” Her mouth pulled down into a grimace. “But I know Vennia will have something to say about it. And - oh! - how did I forget to put the eggs back in the fridge?”

She made to grab for the carton, but in her haste her hand only glanced across the side of the packaging, sending it tumbling down onto the floor, the eggs falling free and landing in a splat.

Il stared down at the broken eggs as Kotone made a noise of frustration and rushed to clean them up. It had all happened so suddenly, Il thought - eggs one moment, mess of fragile shells and yolks the next.

When she was done wiping down the floor, Kotone gathered several thermoses into a bag and held it out to him. “Can you carry this, Il?”

As he paused, processing a reply, she settled it gently into his arms. Putting a lid over the container that held the cake, she picked it up along with a backpack and led him out of the kitchen, through the café, and to the wooden door in front of which stood a large suit of armour.

“Greetings Kotone, Il,” said the armour, giving them a slight bow.

“Sorry we’re late, Canus,” Kotone said, and her words rattled through Il’s mind. Of course the armour was Canus - how had he ever forgotten? “Can you take the bag from Il? There’s quite a bit of coffee - it might be too heavy for him.”

Her words sent a pulse through him, and as Canus reached out, Il stepped back, clutching the thermoses tight. “I can carry it,” he said.

Canus paused, and Kotone’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly. They both watched him in silence, the moment stretching on.

“I can carry it,” he said again, in case they hadn’t heard.

Kotone glanced at Canus, a smile spreading across her face. The fire beneath Canus’s armour turned green.

“Of course you can, Il,” Kotone said softly. “That’s very helpful. Thank you.”

Uncertain what response to give, he simply followed her through the door, then trailed behind Canus as he directed them through the blue-green world they passed into. They walked for a long while, but even as his arms ached from carrying his burden, Il followed along without a word.

Kotone gave a curtsey to a young girl seated on a tangle of vines. “It’s been too long, your majesty.”

“Now really, Kotone,” said the girl. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

“Thank you, Titania.” Kotone smiled at her, and then laid out their lunch across the grass and wildflowers.

Once the cake had been cut and distributed and the coffee dispensed between them, Kotone added a generous helping of flower nectar to Il’s cup, stirring it for him. It occurred to him that he could have done all that for himself - he could have poured her coffee as well! - but Kotone had already turned back to Titania and the chance was gone.

Kotone and Titania talked so much and about so many things that Il could hardly keep up. So he just ate his cake, drank his sweet coffee, and listened.

They spoke about someone named Vennia.

"The same as always, of course,” Titania said with a wave of her hand.

They spoke about Canus.

“Everyone in the neighbourhood just adores him,” Kotone told Titania, and from her expression this appeared to please the other girl greatly.

They spoke about Kariya.

“Apparently he has a girlfriend now,” Kotone said, as Titania giggled. “They met during his first semester at university, but he still hasn’t brought her around to the café.”

Il frowned at this, searching back in his mind. How long had it been since he’d seen Kariya? But the conversation flowed on, never stopping long enough for him to catch up. Kotone and Titania spoke about whatever they liked, flitting from one topic to the next, and left Il to sip at his now-cold coffee in silence.

“Before I forget,” said Kotone, reaching for her pack and emptying its contents across the grass, “I brought you more books.”

“No more fantasy this time, I hope.” Titania wrinkled her nose. “Human stories about magic are so… quaint.”

“A few more mysteries, actually, and adventure novels too. I think you’ll like this one most.” Rifling through the pile of books, she held out one volume in particular. “It’s about a girl who travels the world as an explorer, discovering new places and people. I couldn’t put it down.”

Titania accepted the book gracefully. “That sounds wonderful. I love stories that let you travel like that. I know it’s fiction, but it feels so real. If I were fr-” She coughed delicately. “If I were someone else, I would travel all the worlds I could, forever. These books are the only way I’ll ever get to do that.” She set down her cup and looked at Kotone. “What about you? You’ve brought me so many books over the years - what draws you to them?”

Kotone took a bite of cake and considered the question. “I guess for similar reasons as you. Although, maybe it’s not exactly the same.” Pausing to top up everyone’s cups, she explained slowly, “I’ve heard it said that a reader lives a thousand lives. Maybe it’s different for fairies, but for a human who won’t live centuries, I have to admit that’s a nice thought.”

Titania took a sip of her drink, pinky finger extended, and glanced away. “I never thought about it like that, but I do understand what you mean.”

Their voices were soft, but it hardly mattered; Il’s ears were still ringing with Kotone’s words. His heart rate increased unpleasantly and a twisting sensation deep in his chest made it almost hard to breathe. He frowned into his coffee drowned with flower nectar and tried to analyze the rush of feeling washing over him, its intensity rare in the time since his soul had shattered into pieces.

Oh, he thought, identifying the emotion at last. Panic.

  


* * *

  


The worst part about slowly regaining emotions, Il decided, was that they weren’t always the kind that came from watching Kotone smile when he did something good. There was anger - at others when they caused Kotone trouble, or even worse, at himself when he was the one at fault. There was sadness - or at least something like it, falling over him as he tried to sleep, missing the presence of others as he lay all alone in the dark. And worst of all, there was a sick knot of tension that settled more and more often in his stomach as he thought about the future.

“I think that’s worry, or maybe dread,” Ignis said when Il described the sensation. “What’ve you got to be worried about? You’re living the carefree hermit life as always.”

In some ways he was right, but as Il’s mind emerged more and more from its haze, he couldn’t keep back the uncomfortable, persistent feeling. On days when his thoughts were clear, even something as simple as helping Kotone with the dishes was plagued by the sensation.

“Thank you, Il,” she said. “You’ve been helping out so much around the café lately - I’m so grateful.”

The way she smiled up at him sent a shiver of happiness through him, the feeling strong enough to push down the tangle of complicated emotions that nagged at him.

Basking in her praise and presence, Il began to dry a new cup as Kotone continued, “Did you see the flowers Kariya sent me? What a sweetheart. I hope his new job at the GPM is treating him well.”

Kariya? A job? But he had only recently started university, hadn’t he? The knot of tension rushed back with roaring intensity, slamming into him so hard the cup slipped from his fingers and smashed to the floor.

Kotone jumped, startled, but Il just stared wide-eyed at the broken pieces.

Recovering herself, Kotone gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “Oh Il, don’t be sad. It’s alright. We can just buy another one to replace it.”

“No we can’t!” he burst out, his voice too loud. “There aren’t any others like it!”

She looked at him in confusion, patted his arm soothingly again, and then steered him out of the kitchen, settling him into a chair at the café’s counter.

“Just sit tight,” she said. “I’ll have it cleaned up in a minute. Here - look at the lovely flowers and I’ll be right back.”

With that, she retreated into the kitchen, leaving Il alone in the empty café. He pouted at the bouquet on the counter. Even freshly cut, some of the petals were already beginning to wilt.

  


* * *

  


As his soul knitted itself back together, clarity of mind returning with it, Il’s newfound heart and depth of emotion remained troubled by certain understandings. His memories from before the incident firmed into focus until he could recall them with perfect ease, but even after hours of sifting through them, he found nothing of use.

At a loss for what else to do, he summoned Solitus and tried to reign in his growing distress long enough to articulate his thoughts and fears.

Solitus simply looked at him, his expression stoic. “There was only one being who could create angels, and he no longer exists.”

“But surely there must be some way-”

“There is not,” he said with finality. “Or at least, nothing that would not leave her transformed in some terrible and unforeseen way.”

But Solitus had been occupied with governing Caelm now for so long; he was no scientist. Surely there must have been developments at some point over the years. With that faint hope in mind, Il cornered Rindo the next time he visited the café.

“Don’t start down that road,” Rindo said, his face tight, his eyes focused on something far away. “Turning humans into non-humans? It’s bad business.”

Il didn’t know much about roads or business, so he tried Misyr next.

“Stopping time? Yeah, I can do that.” With a confident grin, Misyr spread his arms wide and waved his hands theatrically, bringing the café to a standstill.

Il’s heart jumped, his words tumbling from his mouth all in a rush. But the more he spoke, the more Misyr’s expression faltered and fell, until at last the bustle of the café resumed and he just shook his head sadly.

“It doesn’t work that way, Il,” he said. “You can’t stop the flow of time for one person forever without consequences.”

Il pleaded with him, promising whatever help he could - his magic, his immortality, his soul again even - until finally Misyr just led him out into the garden. Stopping in front of a rosebush in full bloom, Misyr pulled at the threads of magic in the air, passing his hands over the flowers.

They exploded into dust beneath his fingers.

With a heavy heart, Il bid farewell to his friend and retreated to his room in despair. He started up an otome game, but reading a trite story about the easy happiness of others just left him even more heart-sick and wretched. After what felt like an interminable number of hours, Kotone knocked at his door. 

“There you are, Il,” she said, poking her head into the room with a smile, a book tucked under her arm. “Mind if I join you?”

He tried to return her expression even as he wallowed in his internal misery, but she just curled against him on the couch, burrowing herself into the feathers of his wings. When at last she was comfortable, she took the marker from her book, her fingers smoothing over it before she held it out to him.

“Have I shown you this yet?” she asked. “I made it with the latest gift of flowers from Kariya. He sends them so often, but I’d never thought to do this before. It turned out well, I think.”

The bookmark was simple and terrifying; the dried flowers trapped forever in wax paper, pressed flat, their splendour faded, only an after-image of what they once were.

Kotone smiled up at him, awaiting his response, the expression pulling at the corners of her eyes, creasing her skin.

“It’s beautiful,” said Il, his voice thick.

  


* * *

  


“I can’t get over how gorgeous Kariya’s wedding was,” Kotone said, sighing in contentment. “But I’m glad we’re back home now. Parties in Medio are too much for me.”

Snuggled close together in his hammock, Il had to agree. It had been a moving ceremony and a chance to have everyone gathered together to celebrate a joyous occasion. But it had also been long and tiring, and when he and Kotone had passed back through the gate it had only taken a shared glance of understanding before they made their way to the quiet sanctuary of his room to relax together.

“I should get back to my room and go to sleep though,” she said, shifting in his arms and stifling a yawn. “Tomorrow’s a big day for you.”

Il frowned and searched his mind for her meaning. Had he forgotten something again? It seemed unlikely - he’d been well and recovered in mind, heart, and soul for a while now. And yet, as Kotone looked at him expectantly, all he could draw was a blank.

“It’s your birthday,” she said at last.

He tried to smile, if only because she seemed to expect it, but the expression felt false so it slipped from his face too soon.

She watched him, brow furrowing, the hint of a line between growing deeper, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head at first, but when she only continued to watch him with her usual kind patience he felt as though he had to at least try to explain.

“The only reason I have a birthday is because Souan said I needed one. It’s not my actual creation date. I understand that humans use the event to mark the passage of time in their lives-” His voice broke and he scrambled to continue before he could think too much on his words. “But to me, time will and always has been an eternity. There’s no reason to treat tomorrow differently from any other day.”

Kotone pursed her lips in thought. “Well, it’s your birthday so you can think of it as you like,” she said. “But when time is an eternity, doesn’t that make it even more important to mark the passage of it? To take the moment to celebrate with those who are there with you, and form happy memories together while you can?”

With his throat suddenly tight, his eyes prickling, Il was at a loss for how to respond. So he just gathered her up in his arms and held her gently to him, like the irreplaceably precious person she was.

She wrapped her arms around him as well, her hands threading into the feathers of his wings. Her touch sent a shimmer of sensation up his spine, but before he could make sense of it she looked up at him again and spoke.

“I already have a present for you that I hope you’ll like, but was there anything in particular you wanted?”

“You,” he said, the word slipping out with too quick honesty.

Kotone blushed fiercely, ducking her head and avoiding his eyes.

“You already have me,” she murmured, her face hidden against his chest.

But he didn’t. Not really. Not forever.

She was soft in his arms, her party dress baring her back and shoulders, and he wondered if perhaps it was the fairy wine they’d consumed at the wedding that made them both so very warm. Il ran his hands over her skin, feeling the shiver his touch sent through her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She looked up at him, still a little flushed, so close he could see the faint lines at the edges of her eyes. Had they always been there? It didn’t matter; he placed a gentle kiss to them and she broke into a smile.

He wasn’t certain who moved first then - maybe they both did - but as their lips met, he closed his eyes and held her tightly to him.

He’d kissed her many times over the years, the action always kindling a light in the furthest reaches of his broken soul, but never like this. With his heart and mind fully intact, the flashes of insight and healing turned to something new: a strange heat that radiated through him, all the way to the tips of his wings.

“Stay,” he whispered. “Stay with me tonight.”

He had a faint understanding of what he was asking, gleaned from suggestive scenes in games and overheard snippets of hushed conversations, but that wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to stay.

He wanted her to stay because he cared for her every bit as much as she clearly cared for him, all the long years of his recovery. Because she was perfect no matter how many years went on and he wanted to commit her to memory at every stage. Because he couldn’t bear to be alone on the eve of yet another meaningless birthday as her own time ticked ever onwards.

But most of all, he just wanted her to stay because he loved her.

She swallowed hard, her eyes bright. “Yes,” she said, and then she kissed him again in earnest.

She buried her hands in his wings as she did, stroking his feathers in a way he felt down to his toes. He brushed his hands over her skin, pushing away her dress so he could feel more of her, letting her guide him as he did and helping her do the same to him in turn.

He gasped as her hand closed around him and moved like he’d sometimes done late at night while lying alone, hot and confused by his thoughts and feelings. Only it felt all different, because it was her, all the connections in his soul firing bright and joyous. She showed him how to do the same to her, until she trembled and shook and made little noises that were more divine than any angelic song he’d ever hear. And as the night wore on, they pressed themselves together, joined as close as they could possibly be, the hammock swaying gently with their movements.

He was sleepy after, warm and content, and held her so close he could feel her heartbeat, so tight he believed then that she’d never slip away.

The next morning he woke slowly to the most wonderful feeling of her in his arms, snuggling closer as the light filtered in through the curtains. She brushed gentle kisses across his collarbone, her hands drifting over his wings.

“Happy birthday, Il,” she said softly, smiling up at him in a way that convinced him it was a very happy occasion indeed. “Let me get your present - you can open it now.”

He helped her down, waited until she returned with a carefully wrapped gift, and then flew them both back up to nestle comfortably again in the hammock, the present between them.

“Open it,” she said, smiling wide in encouragement as he unwrapped the paper and revealed what was inside.

It was a book, the cover of which had a picture of the two of them. Il didn’t recall the picture being taken, but it was clearly him and her, sharing a tender smile as they looked at each other, the counter of the café in the background.

Flipping it open, the pages were heavy with photos. Not just of them together - although there were many - but of all the people who shared their life, at all stages. There were pictures of Il in the early years of his recovery, the light gone from his eyes even as Ignis gave a thumbs up in the background and Misyr gave him bunny ears. There were pictures of Kotone serving coffee to everyone imaginable, from a beaming Epilogi to Vennia levelling a disapproving glare at the camera. There were pictures of Canus in the garden, of Mikado spilling coffee on his lab coat, of Rindo helping Kariya tie a tie. And alongside every photo, there were descriptions of each scene, the people in them, and other personal messages, all written in the margins in Kotone’s own unmistakable hand.

Il bit his lip and blinked, but still the images wavered in his eyes.

“Do you like it?” Kotone asked, curled in beside him.

“I love it,” he said honestly. “Thank you. It’s just-” His voice broke off, and he had to swallow before continuing, “It’s just that it’s all going by so fast.”

“Of course it is,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “And there’s nothing we can do except make the most of it.”

She kissed him softly and he held her against him, his wings folding tight around them, keeping her safe, happy, and close - if not forever, then at least for now.


End file.
